Wednesday: If you could warn your past self about me what you say?
Enid: Hmmm I would probably tell me she is about meet someone who will fill her life with the kind of terror I never could have imagined
Wednesday: oh?
Enid: I'm not done, I would warn her she's about to meet some who is about to tear down everything we thought we knew about our future and we would get back up stronger. That you make us self sufficient in a way we feared to even consider ourselves capable of. But we would never choose to live without you
Wednesday: *voice waivers* That's . . . thank you
Enid: *twirls a hair* and if you could warn yourself about sweet innocent me?
Wednesday: . . . I would warn her your saccharine facade hides every one of our most anxiety inducing fears
Enid: awe so sweet
Wednesday: I would warn her that you will expose us to every pain and indignity we had hoped to avoid by shutting ourself off from social interaction
Enid: but?
Wednesday: that it is a price we not only pay willingly but eventually embrace for the privilege of being a small part of your life
Enid: You are not a small part of my life, you are a black hole threatening to pull me in
Wednesday: and you are a festering wound I refuse to treat, picking at it as infection spreads and
Yoko: Just fucking kiss already!
Wednesday: * feigns annoyance and looks out at the wedding party* Should we give the maddening crowd what they so demand?
Enid: *grinning from ear to ear* I guess we've raked them over the coals long enough
Wednesday and Enid embrace
Bianca: *dressed as an officiant* I now pronounce you so fucking gay, now make each other's lives nightmares
warnings: modern/no powers au, mid20s!agatha, no other warnings theres no explicit smut just mainly fluff :3
note: hiiii happy pride! if you haven't read love potions yet i highly recommend reading that first. this will make fine sense without that but like, you will enjoy the dynamics more if you know these two better.
love potions masterlist | au playlist | ao3 | tip jar
Ping.
"Alright, I sent it."
"Fucking finally," Agatha grins, flopping down on the couch across from you. You're tucked into the old armchair that your parents gifted you when you got your first apartment. It's worn around the edges, but it's long since molded to the shape of your body.
Agatha pulls her phone from her back pocket and opens the document you sent her. It's a short story that you've been chipping away at on and off over the last few months. Mostly in your free time, but sometimes sneaking a couple paragraphs on the side while you're at work. The perks of a fairly unsupervised desk job.
Boss makes a dollar, you make a dime, that's why you write dark lesbian erotica on company time. Or however the saying goes.
Since you started dating, Agatha's constantly pestered you for a change to read your writing. You were too embarrassed by it to do anything but fluster at the idea and make up an excuse. After months of "nothing's finished yet," Agatha revealed that she had in fact, snooped around and found some of the fanfiction you've posted.
You were mortified when she was laying in bed next to you and just started reading your own words back to you. So much so that you knocked her phone from her hand, and it almost nailed Señor Scratchy in the face. Agatha had cackled like a proper witch, rolling you onto your back and insisting that you let her read more out loud while you grinded against her. Which was obviously a deal you couldn't refuse, no matter how embarrassing.
It did feel like Agatha's pestering was her way of being supportive of your writing endeavors. No matter how much she teased you about it, she does always tell you what she likes. She's become a sounding board for some ideas, and her brutal honesty is much appreciated when you've been staring at the same words for far too long.
"Ugh, did you send this as a PDF?" Agatha rolls her eyes. "Why don't you just let me read off your laptop at this rate?"
"Because I'm using it, Agatha."
Agatha makes a face and clicks through to download the doc. You tend to try to keep yourself busy when she's reading so that you don't overanalyze every little facial expression she makes, so you go back to the editing you were doing.
Occasionally, you glance up at her. Agatha's chewing on one nail, but that's normal. What isn't, or at least seems new to you, is the fact that Agatha is squinting harder at her phone than usual.
You've never noticed before, but maybe the font of the document was just a bit too small. You shrug it off and decide not to bring it up.
But now that you've noticed it once, you're hyper-vigilant of the new quirk. Agatha seems to hold her phone a bit closer to her face than normal, which certainly can't be good for her. You wonder if maybe its a screen thing, but you notice it in other places too. When she's reading a magazine or book, her eyes narrow and a little furrow of her brow forms.
Part of you wonders if maybe it's her dyslexia, but then you take note of Agatha's complaints of headaches that always seem to happen after she's been making that face for too long.
One day, you finally decide to bring it up.
"Agatha, do you have trouble reading?"
She rolls her eyes, fingers picking at the cracked plastic edge of the diner menu she's holding. She doesn't even look up at you as she answers sarcastically, "No, dyslexia makes it really easy actually. It's basically a superpower."
"No, I mean like, seeing the words," you clarify. Agatha's lip twitches. "I just noticed that you squint when reading a lot."
"It's not a big deal." Agatha is scowling at the menu rather than looking at you, looking like the breakfast combo deal has personally offended her.
"I only bring it up because you're always complaining about your head hurting," you say, bringing your finger up to pull the menu down away from her face. You figured pointing this out would be unpleasant, that Agatha might be insecure about it even though it's totally normal, but you weren't expecting her to look a little sad. "When was the last time you had your eyes checked?"
"They said I had 20/20 vision."
"And that was how long ago?"
"…middle school."
The waitress comes and takes your orders, grabbing the menus when she's done. Agatha can't fidget with the plastic anymore, so she's started messing with the items on the table.
"There's an optometrist in the Walmart, you know. I think they even take walk-ins."
"I'm not paying for some stupid doctor to blow air in my eyeballs and then tell me I'm blind," Agatha scoffs. "Probably would cost my whole paycheck anyway."
"Fair," you shrug. "What if we just look at some of the readers that they carry? You might be fine with non-prescription."
Agatha ponders this for a moment, tapping her nail against the table.
"Okay, fine. If it helps these fucking headaches maybe it's worth it."
"These are all ugly. Let's just give up."
"They're not ugly, Agatha. You haven't even tried any on," you roll your eyes at her tantrum. "Here, at least see if these lenses help you read the chart. We can decide on the frames after."
Agatha huffs and takes the glasses from your offered hand. They're rectangular, with thin frames and small lenses. You assumed maybe they'd feel less imposing. Agatha turns them over in her hands for a moment, before slipping them on.
She reads the mini vision chart on the side of the stand, and looks a little satisfied that she doesn't have to squint. But when she glances in the mirror, her body visibly tenses. Your brow furrows with concern.
"Are you okay?"
"I…" Agatha swallows, fingers coming up to adjust the glasses perched on her face. "I look like my mother."
Oh.
You fall silent, unsure of what to say. Agatha continues speaking.
"I never thought I really resembled her much aside from some minor things, thank god. But she's worn glasses like these since I was a kid, and now…"
"Is that why you've been avoiding this?" You ask. Agatha's lack of response answers your question. "Here, give them to me."
Agatha's body jerks and she looks over at you like she forgot you were with her. Her hands are a little shaky as she takes the glasses off. You set them back in their spot on the stand.
"Did they help?" You ask, trying to divert Agatha's thoughts away from her mother.
"Uh, yeah, actually," Agatha admits. "They did."
"Good," you smile. "We can find different frames."
Agatha nods, letting you scan the shelf for some more options. You avoid anything that looks too much like the first pair, which unfortunately doesn't seem to leave you too many good options. Near the bottom, there's a shelf of ones with much wider lenses and thicker frames. They certainly don't look like the offending pair.
"Here," you take one with a simple black frame and put them on your waiting girlfriend.
Agatha adjusts her hair around the arms of the glasses and looks in the mirror. She pouts.
"I look like a fucking nerd."
You stifle a laugh. Agatha keeps adjusting the way her hair is framing her face. You scoot directly behind her and rest your chin on her shoulder. Your eyes meet hers in the mirror.
"I think you look cute."
"I could wear a fursuit, and you'd think that."
"Depends on the fursuit. What animal would you be?"
"I'm not indulging you with that information."
"You could be a bunny like Scratchy!"
Agatha rolls her eyes, but she seems less frustrated than she was. Your fingers find her stomach as you wrap your arms around her, tracing little patterns.
"Fine, I'll get them," Agatha says at last. You smile and kiss her on the cheek, feeling her skin warm under your lips. "Only because they're five bucks. Any more and I would've just resigned to migraines for the rest of my life."
You were lying when you said Agatha looked cute in the glasses. Okay, wait. Lying isn't quite accurate. You just didn't tell her the complete truth.
Because, truth is, you think she looks so fucking hot in glasses.
It's taken a couple of weeks for Agatha to remember to wear them, but she's finally reached the point where she carries the glasses case you bought her everywhere.
And god, it's so hard to not stare.
Something about the way the frames sit on her face, they draw your focus to her beautiful eyes and her strong nose that you're absolutely obsessed with. It's genuinely unfair how good she looks.
Agatha, for once in her life, seems unaware of how sexy she is. She's written them off as her nerd glasses and thinks your staring is because you think she's just "cute." Like, in a kitten that fell over its own paws kind of way.
Really, you're trying to figure out the least desperate way to say, "The glasses stay on during sex."
Which is stupid. She wouldn't need them.
But still, the next time you initiate a makeout session while she has them on, the second she moves to take them off, you grab her hand.
Agatha raises an eyebrow. "What's your problem?"
"I…" You lick your lips, lowering your hand. "Can you keep them on?"
She pauses for a moment. Then, a grin breaks across her face.
"Oh my god," Agatha laughs.
"Nevermind," you shake your head, pulling away from her. "It's dumb."
"Oh, baby. You're not getting out of this that easy." Agatha hovers further over you, forcing you to lean back until your head hits the pillow on the couch. "You're into the glasses."
"Maybe."
"Maybe," Agatha says in a mocking tone. She sits back a bit, leaving you horizontal under her. She adjusts her glasses. You swallow. "Mhm. Very convincing."
"Shut up."
"Only if you admit it."
"Fine," you sigh, relenting easily. There's no point in fighting it. "I'm really into your glasses."
"And?"
"And I picked them because I thought you'd look hot."
"Aaand?" Agatha singsongs. She has no reason to assume there's more. Just her gut feeling. And, of course, she's right. She knows you far too well.
"And I've fantasized about fucking while you're wearing them."
"There," Agatha smirks. She leans down to press a kiss to your lips. "Was that so hard?"
"Yes."
"Only because you made it hard," she pats your cheek. "You can't hide anything from me."
"Yeah. Stalker."
"Unrelated."
"Whatever. Can you keep kissing me now?"
"Say please."
"Please?"
"Good girl," Agatha purrs. You groan, pulling her down to slot your lips together once more.
In between the greedy noises coming from both of you, Agatha breathes out heavily, "If you ask really nicely, I'll eat you out with my glasses on."
You whine, but before you can even answer, she adds, "Or, I could sit back and read while you're in between my legs instead. Hmm. Decisions, decisions."
"Yes. Either one. Both. Please."
"See?" Agatha chuckles. "Good things happen when you just tell me what goes on in that dirty brain of yours. Me first, though. Get on your knees, baby. Then, I'll make you cum so hard that you have a fucking Pavlovian response to my glasses."
Two orgasms and one broken pair of glasses later, neither of you have any regrets.
💜
bonus little text convo i was going to include but didnt find a place to:
Kara, at work at Catco, gets a text on her phone from Lena inviting her to an evening at the beach. When she shows up at the intended spot as Supergirl, Kara notices Lena is nowhere to be seen. With her super-hearing, she picks up traces on Lena’s voice and notices a tanker sailing into the distance. Fearing the worst, Kara flies after the ship and sees that it’s guarded by men in balaclavas carrying guns. She descends onto the ship and demands the goons tell her Lena’s whereabouts. A battle erupts, ending with Supergirl beating and knocking all the goons out, then she flies down into the ship’s cargo hold.
Coming up to one of the doors in the brig, Supergirl punches the door in and steps into the cell. She then sees Lena wearing a skimpy black bikini with her hands chained to the wall above her head. Lena notices Supergirl and gives her a saucy smirk, then delivers a rather risqué one-liner. How do you imagine Kara responds?
Lena watches Kara gape for a good five seconds before breaking the silence.
“As much as I’m enjoying your appreciation,” she says, allowing a smirk to curl her lips, “I’m fucking freezing.”
In her defense, Lena hadn’t expected the summer afternoon temperature to plummet so quickly when she’d chosen her attire, and she sure as hell hadn’t anticipated being stuff into the frigid hold of a cargo ship. Even so, watching her rescuer’s jaw work soundlessly for a few heartbeats more keeps any true regret at bay.
“O-Of course,” Supergirl stammers. She crosses the hold in a few powerful strides, and gives the chains a yank, snapping the bolt that tethered them to the bulkhead. In the next instant, she sweeps the cape from her shoulders and wraps it around Lena’s scantily-clad frame. It immediately envelops Lena in a pocket of warmth, easing the ache left by the shivers that had wracked her even before Lex’s goons had swarmed her on the beach.
“Thank you,” Lena hums. Her fear has fully abated in the hero’s presence, and when she steps forward, Kara hugs her close, cape and all. The moment of intimacy is out of place on a ship that could very well have enemies prowling its deck, but Lena doesn’t care. She simply sighs.
“So, maybe not the romantic sunset rendezvous on the beach wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had.”
She feels Kara twitch in surprise. “Romantic?”
Lena nods. “Yep. Had a whole speech planned, intimate picnic, stargazing…”
“We… can still do that?” Kara breathes into a question, before clearing her throat into something more confident. “If you want.”
Lena smiles. “Another time.” The mood for such romanticism has been thoroughly ruined. But there’s still one thing Lena hoped to salvage from this disastrous night. Rising to her tiptoes, she presses a kiss to Kara’s lips.
There.
She pulls back to find Kara’s cheeks have immediately turned a vivid pink. Even so, an incredulous yet hopeful smile shines back at Lena. “Really?”
Lena chuckles, then kisses Kara again. “Take me home, darling.”
Kara growled in disappointment at another failed attempt. All she wanted was to repair her relationship with Lena, but every tape only showed a disastrous outcome – each one worse than the one before. It was getting more and more frustrating. Kara wanted to scream. If only Lena could just understand!
Perhaps she was wrong about her approach. Each tape gave her a taste of the world and then jumped to the conclusion, but she wondered if she had more time she could make a bigger change.
Then again, maybe it wasn't just the timing. She had an opportunity to rewrite the past for Rao's sake! She could not afford to be greedy and get more out of her wish, but she might as well make sure it was done right.
Her and Lena, they were both better with each other in their life – she saw what would've happened if they weren't. She just needed one more chance, one proper chance to see things through.
"You saw what would happen!" Mxy said defensively after Kara asked for another chance. "You exhausted every possibility!"
"What if I didn't? What if I just chose the wrong timings!" She argued.
"You want to try again?"He asked with genuine surprise.
"I'm sure the next one would be it! Please."
It wasn't. And so was the next one, and the one after that. Telling her on the plane led to them crashing into a mountain, telling Lena after she was poisoned led to Reign killing them all soon after, and telling her while investigating Lex led to him killing Lena and taking over the world.
"Ughh! Why does it always end like that?" Kara leaned back on her couch, her head facing the ceiling and her eyes shut tight.
"If I recall, each ending was quite different," Mxy noted next to her, his voice seemed to be losing patience.
She was frustrated too. It was as if the solution was just out of reach, staring at her right in front of her face. The tape where she told Lena right at the start was the best one yet – well, that was until Agent Liberty killed everyone, but maybe had she had more time to observe that timeline, things would've been different.
"Okay," Kara opened her eyes and jumped up, filled with purpose and pure determination. "I need you to take me back to the early days of our friendship, but this time I'll ask you to keep me there for longer, I need to observe more of it before you jump to the end."
"You know, it was fun at first, now it's just boring." Mxy dragged out his words, lingering on the last syllable.
"I promise you, this time it will work." She understood the frustration, but she knew she had to fix her relationship with Lena.
"I've heard that before," He rolled his eyes and got up.
"You told me you would help me fix it! It's not fixed yet!" She got up after him, not above pleading for his help.
Mxy closed his eyes, took a big breath and exhaled slowly. When he opened them again his lips quickly changed from a frustrated frown to a brilliant smile, maybe a bit too wicked to Kara's liking.
"You're right," He said, "your approach has been too similar with each attempt. Maybe it's time for a small change."
"What do you mean?" Kara agreed, but couldn't help but be a bit concerned about his new attitude.
"Do you want to go back and try again?"
"Yes."
"Then call my name if you need anything, although I will warn you I won't be able to do much but pull you back, so don't set your hopes too high."
"What do you mean by a small change?" She searched his eyes for any answer but found nothing.
Mxy smiled. "I'm sure you'll see soon enough."
Before Kara had a chance to ask anything else, the scenery in front of her changed once again. Only this time she was not projected to a taped version of herself, but found herself floating in the air of the National city skyline. It was strange, she was sure she would find herself in front of Lena like usual, then again Mxy had said it would be different.
Something felt off. She wasn't sure what exactly, but she felt weird. Her clothes didn't feel like the supersuit, no cape at her back, and the wind lifted up the edges of her t-shirt. Looking down at herself she realised it was not only her clothes, but her body looked different. Kara quickly landed on the nearest roof and felt much closer to the ground than usual.
"Mxy!" She called out to him immediately, her voice coming out at a much higher pitch than expected. That must've been a joke.
"Giving up already?" He asked from behind her back. Turning around Kara saw him leaning casually against the roof entrance of the building.
"What? No! Just, what did you do to me?" She demanded, her voice squeaking out and losing any hint of intimidation she hoped to convey.
"I told you I was going to make a small change," He smiled smugly as a small mirror appeared in her right hand.
Looking at the mirror affirmed her suspicion. She had the body of a child, her own child self. She couldn't be older than six years old by the looks of it.
"How is that supposed to help me fix my friendship with Lena?" She lowered the mirror to look him firmly in his eyes.
"I don't know," the imp shrugged. "But it's much more interesting than everything that was going on before."
"Turn me back." She shouted, placing her hands on her hips to make herself seem larger. Not that it could help with her current size.
"Do you want to give up on the attempt?"
"No."
"Then, I'm sure you'll find a way around it." He winked and disappeared.
Kara sighed. She already knew this was going to be a very annoying attempt.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
chapter 1 of 4 | rated m | supercorp | 9k
“That’s why I married you. Math,” Kara says, with full authority. Lena snorts.
“You married me because my brother caught us alone in an orangery,” Lena says.
Hiii. Could you make a fic featuring Natasha Romanoff X fem!reader in which they are happily married and one night Natasha has a terrible nightmare: she comes back home and finds Dreykov, Madame B and some widows torturing and then painfully killing reader with her not being able to do anything and being forced to watch everything unfold. Natasha wakes up startled, absolutely terrified and in a complete emotional breakdown (tears, shaking, breathing erratically...) and wakes up reader to make sure she is NOT really dead. Reader comforts, reassures, and loves her (LOTS of fluff) and in the meantime they remember again why they're truly each other's soulmate (reader is aware that Natasha is not that vulnerable with anyone else and she is honoured Nat lets her and Natasha is thankful that someone loves and chooses her despite her past and trauma). Thanks in advance and sorry for making the request this long xoxo.
Trauma
Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
TW's: Blood, violence, death
[A/N] Been suffering a little with writer's block and last time I said that on this blog it went away almost immediately so I'm saying it again in case it happens again ❤️ Happy Pride month everyone, I'll be sure to keep the lesbian fics coming this month 🌈 Thanks for the request my lovely anon, compared to some requests I get it wasn't actually that long 😂 Hope you enjoy this one 😘
Natasha unlocks the front door to the apartment she’d moved into with you five years ago. Your relationship had been going well at the time and you’d hinted more than once that you’d like to take things a step further. Eventually Natasha had relented, agreeing to move out of the Avengers compound into an apartment with you. It was small, none of the windows closed properly so there was always a draught, and every so often the shower randomly leaked with no rhythm or reason, but it had quickly become home. Natasha loved looking around and seeing pieces of you everywhere. Books strewn across the floor, the necklace you always wore left absentmindedly by the kitchen sink, your cardigan thrown over the back of a chair.
You’d gotten married two years ago, and Natasha couldn’t be happier. Marriage had always been something Natasha thought she wouldn’t experience. Even when she escaped the Red Room she’d figured, who could love someone as broken as her? You could, apparently. You were Natasha’s everything, and she was so glad she’d found you.
Maybe it’s because she’s been feeling so safe lately but Natasha doesn’t immediately notice anything out of place. It’s only when she’s kicked off her shoes that she notices the overturned coffee table, your plant pot broken with the soil spilt across the floor. You weren’t always the tidiest person around but Natasha knows if you’d bumped into it, you wouldn’t have just left it like that. This looked almost like-
“Baby?” Natasha calls out. “Are you home?”
There’s music playing in the living room and Natasha recognises it as Tchaikovsky, the ‘Swan Lake’ soundtrack. Why would you be listening to that? It’s playing loudly and it gets quieter as she creeps slowly down the corridor, and as the music quietens she begins to hear the sound of panicked sobs, and a voice calling her name. Your voice.
The moment Natasha steps into the living room someone kicks her in the leg, knocking her off her feet. Before she can react a series of punches get thrown on her, several to her face, and several to her stomach, disorienting her completely. Natasha tries to scramble to her feet, to reach for her weapon but two women grab her arms, pulling them behind her back. She squirms weakly in their grip, her alarmed gaze searching the room, finally landing on you.
You’re tied to one of the dining chairs, tears streaming down your cheeks, blood everywhere, your face battered and bruised as you let out pained pants through your tears. On either side of you stand two people Natasha remembers well, no matter how hard she wants to forget them. Madame B, her supervisor from the Red Room, and Dreykov, the man who’d put her there. Holding her back are presumably two Widow’s, and on either side of Madame B and Dreykov are four more Widow’s, each of them expressionless.
“What are you doing?” Natasha asks, thrashing in the grip of the women holding her. “What are you doing to her?”
Nobody answers her. Madame B turns back to you and you whimper, trying to squirm away from her touch as she presses a knife to your throat. Natasha thrashes harder, reaching desperately for you, “Don’t do this! Leave her alone, please, please, leave her alone-”
Natasha tries to scream but her words are coming out croaked, like her voice is slowly disappearing. She’s panicking now, so desperate to get to you. What are they doing here? How did they find her? Why are they targeting you? Questions fly through Natasha’s head but she tries to push them away, focusing on you, pulling desperately in the grip of the Widow’s but they hang on, and she’s still disoriented from the punches. For a moment she’s certain the Widow standing behind Dreykov is Yelena, when she blinks she turns into Melina, another blink and it’s Natasha herself. She shakes her head, mumbling desperately, “No, no, no, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening…”
Dreykov smiles, gesturing with his head, and Madame B drags the knife across your throat, blood beginning to pour out like a fountain. Your eyes are wide as you look towards Natasha, unable to speak as you cough and splutter, blood spilling out of your mouth. Natasha’s crying now, trying her best to scream over and over again, “No! No, please! Please! Not her! I’ll do anything, please! Please-”
But it’s too late and Natasha knows it. Your horrified gaze remains on her until your eyes glaze over, your expression stuck in permanent terror as your body slumps awkwardly in the chair, held up now only by the ropes. Dreykov turns to Natasha and she shakes her head, stammering over her words and her tears. You’re gone. Why did they do this to you? Natasha doesn’t care what happens to her now, you were her only reason for waking up in the morning, and now you’re gone, you’re gone-
Natasha bolts awake, sitting upright in bed and panting heavily. The bedroom is dark and for a moment she’s completely disoriented. Natasha reaches over to switch on the bedside lamp, her breathing coming out in erratic pants as she looks around the room. Finally her gaze lands on you and she chokes back a sob. You’re lying next to her, fast asleep, and before Natasha can think about what she’s doing she shakes your shoulder roughly, “Y/N! Y/N!”
You wake up with a start, looking up at her with wide eyes, “Wha- What?”
“Oh- Y/N…”
Natasha pulls you upright and into her arms, crying into your shoulder. For a moment you’re irritated by the sudden wakeup call but when you realise Natasha’s crying you instantly soften, wrapping your own arms around her. You know Natasha better than anyone but you’ve only seen her cry twice, and both times she’d left the room immediately so you wouldn’t see. This is the very first time she’s allowed herself to cry so openly. “I thought there was a house fire for a minute,” You tease softly, your own heart pounding in your chest. “But I guess there must’ve been another reason that you woke me up.”
Natasha doesn’t reply and that’s when you feel her shaking, her hands digging into the fabric of the baggy t-shirt you wear to sleep in. You try to pull back to look at her but she hangs on, desperate to hold onto you, so you relent, letting her just hold you if that’s what she wants. Her breathing is still coming out in erratic pants, so you rub your hand up and down her back, mumbling, “Hey... Nat, baby, it’s okay… Everything’s okay…”
Natasha can’t speak, letting out a gulping sob as she presses a shaky kiss to your forehead, letting herself feel that you’re safe and that more importantly, you’re alive. Eventually she pulls back to look at you, cupping your cheek in her hand, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah… Yeah, I was just asleep. Are you okay?”
Natasha suddenly pulls away, grabbing her sidearm that she keeps in the bedside drawer and creeping into the hallway. You start to say her name but Natasha holds up a finger to silence you, so you quieten, letting her do whatever she feels she needs to do. Natasha checks every room of the small apartment, every possible hiding spot until she’s satisfied that there’s no one else there. She checks the front door is definitely locked before heading back to bed and pulling you into her arms again.
You reach up to gently wipe a tear on her cheek, “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“You were dead.” Just saying the words out loud makes Natasha sob again, and your expression softens, kissing her tearstained cheek. “I couldn’t do anything, I was- I couldn’t save you, God, I couldn’t save you-”
“I’m fine. Okay? Nothing happened, it was just a bad dream.”
“It was worse than a bad dream, it was… Fuck, it was so real. You were-” Natasha lets out a shaky breath, leaning her forehead against yours. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d fucking lost you.”
You tilt your head to press a slow, loving kiss to her lips, and mumble, “I’m right here. Nothing’s gonna happen to me-”
“You don’t know that,” Natasha says urgently. “I wasn’t there to protect you and they got the upper hand and then I couldn’t- I couldn’t-”
“Nat, baby, it wasn’t real. I don’t know what happened but it was just a bad dream.”
“What if it wasn’t though?” Natasha sobs. “This apartment isn’t the most secure and I worry about you here all by yourself while I’m away on missions. Anything could happen and if I- If I lost you, I don’t know if I could- I wouldn’t be able to-”
You consider her words for a moment, your fingers gently running over her cheek, wiping away a tear that slips down, “What would make you feel better?”
Natasha hesitates, swallowing down another sob as she tries to get a hold of her emotions. What would make her feel better? “I- I want to teach you basic self defence.”
“Okay.”
“What, you’re going to agree just like that?”
“I’d agree to anything if it made you feel better. Besides, I’ve wanted to learn for a while, I’d rather get taught by you.”
“And I want to install a security system,” Natasha says. “I’m not even asking the landlord, I’m just gonna do it.”
“We’re not getting our deposit back, are we?”
“You’re more important to me.”
You meet her gaze, seeing the way she’s looking at you. Her eyes are red, her eyelashes glistening as another tear trickles down her flushed cheek. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen her and you know it’s rare. A sign that she trusts you. It’s only taken her six years of being together, two of them in which you’ve been married. You kiss her teary cheek again, “You’re important to me too. Okay? And if I have to take all the self defence courses in New York, start carrying pepper spray, have the fanciest, most expensive security system that money can buy, then I will. Anything to make you feel better.”
Natasha sniffles, looking down at the bed, “I know I’m being a lot right now-”
“No, you’re being real, and I appreciate it. I love you.”
“I love you more,” Natasha replies without hesitation. “I still shouldn’t have cried.”
“It’s okay to cry, you know?” You say gently, tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear. “It’s not a weakness, it’s just… Having a good cry makes me feel better. Do you know how many times a day I sneak to the bathroom at work to have a little cry?”
“That often? Do you like… Need help?”
“Okay, it’s not that often but sometimes things get on top of you and crying does help.” You cup her cheek with your hand again, your voice dropping quieter, “I know you didn’t cry as a kid. I know what they said to you, what they did to you if you cried… But you’re not there anymore, you’re here with me. And if you need to cry then you can just cry.”
“You’re my soulmate, you know that?” Natasha says with a small, tearful smile. “You’re the only person I fully trust.”
“What about Clint?”
“I trust Clint with my life but I trust you with my emotions.”
You smile, unable to resist kissing her cheek again. Her breathing has calmed somewhat and you run your fingers through her hair, before pressing a kiss to her forehead this time, “Do you wanna stay up a bit longer? We could put a movie on, just for some background noise and cuddle for a bit.”
Natasha hadn’t even realised that was what she needed until you suggested it. You know her even better than she knows herself sometimes. She nods mutely, cuddling into your side as you scroll through Netflix looking for something comforting to watch. Her arm snakes around your waist and she presses a kiss to your neck, “I’m sorry, I know you have work in the morning-”
“It’s one night of slightly broken sleep, I’m sure I’ll survive. Besides, I’d choose cuddles with you over sleep anytime.”
Natasha kisses you again as you finally settle on ‘Mean Girls’, an old comfort film you both enjoy. Natasha relaxes as the familiar opening begins to play and you wrap your arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She’s still on edge from her nightmare but the movie combined with your comforting presence helps to soothe her. You run your fingers through her hair and she sighs, loving when you do that. If anyone else tried to touch her hair she’d slap them, but you’re different. Your touch relaxes her and she feels a rush of love and gratitude for you.
Nothing will ever happen to you, Natasha will make sure of it. She knows Madame B and Dreykov can’t come after you, that they’re both dead now, that her dream was just her subconscious fucking with her. But there are other threats out there and if anyone tries to get near you, they’ll soon regret it. No one touches Natasha’s wife and gets away with it.
summary: Wednesday’s sudden affectionate behavior has you feeling all sorts of conflicted… You need to find a way to reverse this elixir, and fast!
word count: 4.4k
————
Wednesday looks at you expectingly awaiting a response. Her dark eyes look at you in a way that feels...different.
"Wednesday, what was that?" You ask, trying to keep your voice calm while gesturing to the empty glass bottle.
For the first time since you've known the girl, she hesitates. "It was... nothing," she replies, though her voice lacks its usual certainty.
During this entire exchange, you notice that Enid is unusually quiet, not her typical inquisitive self, and you find it strange since this situation especially should call upon those traits of hers.
Almost like she read your mind, Enid speaks, "Wednesday, why did you drink from that bottle?"
But Wednesday isn't listening. Instead, she steps closer to you, her gaze inviting and seductive. "You know," she begins, her voice unusually soft, "there's something about you that I find... compelling."
Your heart skips a beat, confusion mixing with a hint of fear. "Wednesday, what are you talking about?"
"I mean," she continues, her tone almost... tender? "I've always appreciated your spirit, your defiance. There's a fire in you that's hard to ignore."
You blink, utterly bewildered. Your eyes widen as realization starts to hit, "Enid, I think that bottle wasn't just any potion. It could be a love potion!" You whisper the last part.
"Oh my god a love potion?!" you exclaim, letting the words you spoke settle in. You take a step back as Wednesday moves even closer, her eyes still locked onto yours.
"Wednesday, snap out of it!" you say, your voice a mix of panic and desperation.
But Wednesday just smiles, an expression so out of place on her usually stoic face that it sends chills down your spine. "Why would I want to snap out of it? Being close to you feels... right."
Wednesday steps even closer leaving little to no room between you two. She grips the knot of your tie while maintaining eye contact with you, and slowly wraps your tie around the fist of her other hand. Just as she was about to tug on your tie, Enid quickly steps in, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from Wednesday's reach. "Come on, we need to figure out how to reverse this, now."
You nod, your mind racing. You both run out of the dorm room and bolt to the East Wing library knowing that it will be empty. The vampires think they're too elite to hold their book club in any place other than the grand library and that worked in your favour for once.
You and Enid frantically catch your breath as you collapse onto the couches in the library.
"You okay?" Enid asks, "You're quite red."
"I-I just, that was so out of character for Wednesday, did you hear the things she was saying to me?" You say flustered, gripping the knot of your tie, the very spot Wednesday was holding a moment ago. Loosening your tie, you cover your face with both your hands and groan into them.
Enid laughs, "Hmm are you blushing Y/n/n?"
"Absolutely not," you feel your face burn up even more and refuse to take your hands away from your red cheeks until you've cooled down a little.
"Okay we need to find that book with the potion recipes. It has to be here somewhere." Enid nods and jumps up into action, heading towards the dusty bookshelves trying to find anything that could help.
Meanwhile you go to another bookshelf, hoping it would give you faster results. "So we think it's a love potion right?" You yell across the library to Enid.
"Uhh yeah," Enid mutters while flipping through books.
Minutes pass and it's dead quiet in the library. "Found it!" You pull a thick, ancient book from the shelf, the cover worn and faded, with the title Elixirs. "Let's see... love potions, love potions... ahh, here it is!"
As Enid walks toward you, she can't help but notice your blushing cheeks, the way you're fiddling with the edge of your tie, and the panicked state you're in. It's a stark contrast to your usual composed self, and it doesn't go unnoticed.
You start reading aloud, "The Amore Certo, commonly referred to as the Love Potion, is a potent and rare elixir known for its ability to intensify and bring forth feelings of love and affection in the drinker."
Enid nods confirming that this matches what Wednesday seems to be experiencing.
"Upon consumption, the potion works by subjecting the drinker with a deep sense of affection towards the first person they set eyes on. This connection feels natural and all-consuming. The drinker's heart will race, their thoughts will be consumed by the object of their affection, and they will feel a powerful urge to be near them, showering them with adoration and devotion."
As you read, your heart begins to pound. The words resonate with what you've seen in Wednesday, the way her eyes linger on you, the subtle but undeniable pull between you two. A part of you wants to rush back to the dorm, just to see if reality aligns with what you're reading. Only to confirm if this is truly the potion affecting her, of course... no other reason.
"Does it say anything about an antidote?" Enid says getting impatient, snapping you out of your thoughts.
"The only known antidote to the Amore Certo is the Elixir of Clarity, which must be administered within three days of consumption to fully negate the effects. However, it is said that true love cannot be entirely undone, and a trace of the potion's magic may remain in the heart of the drinker, even after the effects have worn off. Blah blah blah, and look here's a list of ingredients to make the Clarity Elixir." You point to the long list of ingredients while looking at Enid.
The blonde lets out a sigh of relief, "Okay I'm glad we're getting somewhere. I say we call it a night today, and we'll spend tomorrow making the Clarity Elixir and getting Wednesday back to normal."
"Wait why can't we just start now?"
"Y/n how in the world are you going to get Solar Sun Whiskers at 2 a.m in the morning?" Your friend crosses her arms with a laugh.
With that you and Enid walk back to her dorm room, so you can grab your bag and she can keep an eye on Wednesday for the night. You two decided it was probably for the best if you didn't spend the night sleeping over.
Enid pushes the door open to see Wednesday intently watching the movie that you two had put in earlier. You look to the tv to see the credits now rolling.
She watched the movie to completion...
"Y/n!" She exclaims finally noticing you and Enid at the door. You freeze as the excitement when seeing you catches you off guard. A very large part of you can't help but secretly enjoy the way her eyes light up when she sees you.
"Wednesday, hey," you respond nervously. "We were uhm, just grabbing my bag."
She stands up from the bed, and walks towards you with a light smile tugging at her lips. "You left before we could finish our evening together. I took the liberty of finishing the film. But we can always start another one if you'd like? Or perhaps we can discuss the film and what we enjoyed about it? If I remember correctly you've seen this one before right?"
It's hard to hear the girl with the sound of your thumping heart. God she's so adorable right now. Watching the girl before you fiddle with her fingers because she's nervous around you, has made you nervous yourself. Discuss the film? That's such a Wednesday expression of love you smile to yourself. You're intrigued that this love potion has shown you what a love sick Wednesday would do and not just make her do the generic romantic things.
Wait what are you thinking. Did you just think Wednesday was adorable? You scold yourself mentally. None of this is real Y/n, this isn't Wednesday, she doesn't actually love you. This is the girl that released spiders in your room to prove a point.
"...in the film he learned a language for the girl he loved. Would you like that Y/n/n? Enid mentioned that you were studying Greek—I could learn it for you if that's what your heart desires.
You ignore the pang in your chest reminding yourself that none of this is real.
Enid looks over to you and sees you struggling, she can understand why, and steps in to break the tension. "Actually, Wens, we were thinking of calling it a night. It's late, and Y/n/n needs to get some rest. We'll hang out more tomorrow, okay?"
The thought of Enid having to console Wednesday over spending time with you feels surreal, but then again, you are friends with a werewolf—anything is possible.
Wednesday's expression falters for a millisecond, a flash of disappointment crossing her face before she masks it with her usual stoic look. "If that's what Y/n wants," she says her tone soft.
Grabbing your bag, you make your way out the door, but something makes you pause, "Goodnight Wednesday," you smile softly, not entirely sure why you felt compelled to do so.
She steps forward, the same intensity in her eyes you've seen for the past couple hours, "Goodnight Y/n."
————
That night you couldn't sleep at all. You were alone in your dorm room twisting and turning disturbed with the events of the day. Not necessarily with Wednesday's actions, but with how they make you feel. Realizing it's in yours and Wednesday's best interest to get some sleep, you finally close your eyes thinking about how in the world you were going to get Solar Sun Whiskers tomorrow.
The next morning began like any other. After getting dressed, you texted Enid, who agreed to meet you outside your dorm. As you gathered your things, a commotion outside your door grew louder, making you roll your eyes in frustration. Why couldn't people be more considerate at 7 a.m.?
Curious about the noise, you opened your door to find dozens of curious eyes staring back at you. Glancing down, you noticed a bouquet lying at your doorstep. Quickly, you scooped it up and retreated back into your room, eager to escape the prying gazes.
You carefully place the bouquet onto your bed and just stared at it. You realize very quickly that the people outside weren't buzzing because they thought you had a secret admirer, but because of the unique arrangement you received.
The bouquet in front of you seemed to be fresh black roses intertwined with small, gleaming knives and arrows, all meticulously wrapped in a blood-red bow.
That's when you notice a small index card stabbed by one of the arrows, with writing on it. Picking it up carefully you begin to read: "Good morning, Mia Cara. I hope you appreciate the flowers. I've included some weapons for your protection, given the recent attacks at the academy. Stay safe."
"Mia Cara?" You repeat back to yourself in a whisper.
"Yeahh," you hear a tired voice drawl behind you. You jump at Enid's voice startled by her appearance. Seems like she let herself in. "She heard me call you Y/n/n yesterday and decided she needed a nickname for you too. After three hours of intense discussion, she finally settled on 'Mia Cara.' Said it was perfect," the werewolf yawns.
A warm blush creeps up your cheeks as you imagine Wednesday sitting there, stubbornly insisting on the perfect name for you. It's both baffling and oddly touching. You shake your head, trying to dismiss the fluttering in your chest. "I can't believe she did that," you murmur, more to yourself than to Enid. You clear your throat, "Come on let's go get those ingredients."
And so you and Enid spend the next four hours, grabbing the ingredients for the Clarity Elixir, some more challenging to obtain than others. After defeating the sun goddess in an intense game of checkers, you've obtained the Solar Whiskers, the final piece needed to brew the reversal potion.
"How are you so good at this?" You ask as you intently watch Enid concoct the potion back at your room.
"Webbers potion making class?" she shrugs, giving the potion one last swirl before using a funnel to pour the liquid into a glass bottle identical to the one Wednesday drank from.
Determined to act quickly, you and Enid rush back to her dorm room. According to the Elixir book, the reversal potion must be administered within three days of consuming the love potion. Time is of the essence, and you're already on day two of this fiasco.
As you approach the familiar hallway you see Xavier Thorpe on his knees pleading for his life, and of course standing in front of him is the Wednesday you're typically used to seeing with a knife in hand.
"I told you! I haven't seen her at all today. There! Look! She's right behind you!" As Wednesday turns to look at you, Xavier scrambles to his feet and runs in the opposite direction.
"Y/n," she hurries over, gently cupping your cheek as she looks you over with concern, as if checking for any injuries. "I was worried when I couldn't reach you today. I even tried contacting Enid, but had no luck," she adds, nodding towards her roommate with a hint of relief.
"Come on, let's head inside," you whisper, keeping your voice as soft as possible. Wednesday's touch has you feeling unusually flustered, and you don't want your voice to give away how affected you are.
"Did you receive my flowers?" Wednesday questions suddenly with a quirk of her head.
"Yes I did, thank you," you respond, while you take notice of Enid laughing to herself. Sometimes you forget to realize how unusual this behavior of Wednesday is, since you're too busy being flustered half the time.
Wednesday hums in satisfaction, "Were you able to see the moon last night from your dorm room?"
You raise an eyebrow, not knowing where she was going with this, "No my window doesn't face that way."
"Such a pity," she begins, glancing toward the balcony on her side of the room. "As I was out there yesterday, all I could think about was how much I longed to ravish you under the moonlight, Mia Cara." She finishes with sincerity, and her eyes even darker, not knowing that was possible.
Enid breaks out into laughter, cackling at the subject matter of Wednesday's words. Never in a million years did you think you'd hear the word 'ravish' come out of Wednesday Addams' mouth. Clearly at a loss for words, Enid takes over.
"I think we should give her the Elixir," Enid says in between laughs, "It seems like the potion's effects becomes stronger as time passes.
All you could do is nod. Enid passes over a vial of the potion to her roommate, and Wednesday takes it in her hands cautiously, looking back at you, almost as if asking is this safe?
Once again you nod, urging her to drink it. You could tell that she was confused, but in the state that Wednesday was in you could tell that she would do anything that you asked of her.
As you wait for the elixir to reverse the potion, you can't help but slightly frown. A small part of you was going to miss this Wednesday that cared so strongly for you, but you also knew that you missed the real Wednesday even more.
Twenty minutes have gone by and Wednesday has moved to sit on her bed. You alternately look at Enid and the girl. "Has it worked?"
"I don't think so," Enid says defeated, "She would've scolded us for staring by now if it did."
"The book said that the clarity elixir works immediately," you say to yourself. "Maybe it'll work gradually?"
You and Enid look at each other, "maybe the potion did work," Enid whispers.
"I apologize if my comment about ravishing you under the moonlight made you uncomfortable. But please, don't feel the need to torment me by making me drink these dreadful concoctions, my love," she adds gently.
"Nope, did not work," you groan with a faint blush on your cheeks at the mention of ravishing again.
You hated the inner turmoil you were experiencing. It was confusing to have Wednesday Addams be the first girl to ever get you flowers and make you blush like you are now. It made you angry that the same girl that thrived off of making you lose control, is the same one you're worrying tremendously about.
Storming out of the room you go back to the library hoping you can figure out how to treat Wednesday fast because you didn't know how much more of this confusion you could take.
Pulling nearly every book you can find about potions out, you were now surrounded by papers and books all about the art of potion making.
"Y/n," Enid's voice gently approaches you after fifteen minutes. You don't respond, still immersed in your search for answers, though it's clear you're not making any progress.
Sensing your frustration, Enid places a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Hey, talk to me. What's going on?"
You sigh, closing the book in front of you. "I don't know, Enid. I don't like seeing Wednesday like this."
"None of us do," she agrees softly. "She's acting like the polar opposite of herself. Poor thing."
"Yeah, there's that," you admit, "but what's really throwing me off is how it's affecting me. I don't hate it, Enid. I don't hate how caring she's being. In fact, it's confusing me... I wouldn't mind experiencing more of it. And that's bad. I shouldn't be getting used to this because none of it's real," you finish, voicing your thoughts for the first time.
As you start to lose hope in finding a solution, a sudden realization hits you.
That potion was originally on Enid's side of the room. She moved it to Wednesday's desk when she almost knocked it over. But why would there be a love potion in Wednesday's dorm? And why hasn't Enid seemed surprised by any of this?
"Enid, did you make that potion?"
Enid freezes, a guilty look crossing her face. "Wait... let me explain, okay?"
You turn to her, desperate for answers. "What is it?"
"Y/n, the potion wasn't a love potion. It was an enhancer. It amplifies pre-existing emotions."
You stare at her, trying to process this revelation. "So, you're saying..."
"Wednesday already had feelings for you," Enid explains gently. "The potion just brought them to the surface."
The realization hits you hard. Beneath all the arguments and tension, there was something more—something neither of you had acknowledged until now.
"But why? Why would you even make something like this?" you ask, genuinely confused and a little hurt.
"It's frustrating that my two best friends can't get along," Enid says sadly. "We learned about this potion in class, and I thought if you drank an enhancer potion, you'd better understand your issues with Wednesday. Maybe then you two could start getting along."
"Wait... hold on. The potion was meant for me?!"
"Yeah," Enid admits, lowering her head. "I thought it would help you figure things out, and maybe if you talked to me about it, I could help bridge the gap between you and Wens so we could all be happy," she finishes with a nervous smile.
You shake your head, trying to make sense of it all. "So why did you let us waste time making the clarity elixir?"
"I honestly thought it might work," Enid says defensively. "A part of me even wondered if I had messed up the potion and accidentally made a love potion instead. I had no idea Wednesday had feelings for you."
This is all too much to take in. You sigh, "Okay, so how do you reverse an enhancer potion?"
"A heartfelt conversation."
"No, seriously, Enid. How do we get Wednesday back to normal?"
"I'm serious, Y/n," Enid insists. "The whole point of an enhancer is to amplify what's already there or reveal what was hidden. A heartfelt conversation, one where you address the things that were left unsaid, will make the enhancer's effects wear off."
"Stay here please," You tell Enid, as you slowly get up and leave the library, walking towards the room where a lovesick Wednesday Addams shall be.
You didn't know what you were doing or what you were going to say, you didn't know how you felt yourself, and how you were going to get Wednesday in the state she was in, to talk about her genuine feelings for you. But you wanted this to be solved sooner rather than later. The weekend was almost over, and you can't have Wednesday making a fool of herself when the school week starts and all students are back on campus.
With a deep breath, you gather your resolve and head towards Wednesday's dorm room. When you reach the door, you pause for a moment, your hand hovering just above the doorknob. What would you even say to her? How do you navigate this tangled mess of emotions and misunderstandings?
And holy shit Wednesday likes you?! You haven't even let yourself process the fact and now it's got you feeling all shy.
Before you can second-guess yourself, you twist the knob and step inside. Wednesday is sitting on her bed, flipping through a book, her expression more serene than you've ever seen. It's unnerving, in a way, seeing her so calm and... content.
She looks up as you enter, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Mia Cara," she greets you warmly, her voice sending a strange flutter through your chest. "I was wondering when you'd come back."
You force a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside you. "We need to talk, Wednesday."
Her eyes narrow slightly, sensing the seriousness in your tone. She sets the book aside and gives you her full attention. "Of course. What's on your mind?"
You take a seat at the edge of the bed, your heart pounding. "This whole situation... it's complicated. I know you're feeling things intensely right now, but I need to know—how much of this is really you? How much of it is the potion?"
Wednesday tilts her head, studying you with that familiar, analytical gaze. Her jaw tightens, her gaze moves to a point just beyond you, as if avoiding your eyes might make the conversation easier. "I don't see how discussing this will change anything."
Hmm so the potion doesn't necessarily make the communication aspect easier. You are slightly annoyed though, since this means that you have to take more of an emotional burden when talking about your feelings with Wednesday.
"Because it's important," you press, feeling your heart race. "I need to know what's real, Wednesday. This whole weekend, I've seen a side of you that I didn't think existed, and now that it's out there... I need to understand it. I need to understand you."
She's silent for a long moment, her face a perfect mask of indifference. But you can see the tension in her posture, the way her hands are clenched tightly at her sides. Finally, she sighs, a rare sound that tells you how much she's struggling with this.
"I've spent most of my life burying emotions," she admits, her voice low. "They complicate things, make people weak. I've always believed that. But then you came along, and for some inexplicable reason, you've managed to... disrupt that order."
You swallow, sensing that you're getting closer to the truth. "What do you mean?"
Wednesday's eyes finally meet yours, and there's a flicker of something vulnerable in them, though she quickly tries to hide it. "You irritate me," she says bluntly. "You make me feel things I'd rather not feel. And that's... problematic."
You let out a soft, almost relieved laugh. "So, I irritate you?"
"Yes," she replies, though there's a slight softening in her tone. "But not in the way you think. It's... more than that. I've tried to ignore it, tried to push it away, but the potion made it impossible."
"So the potion?" you drag out in question, needing Wednesday to explicitly say what you already know.
Wednesday looks down at her hands, clearly struggling to say what she feels despite the help of the potion, but after a minute she speaks, "I didn't fabricate feelings that didn't exist. It merely amplified what was already there."
You feel your heart skip a beat at her words, the realization slowly settling in.
Wednesday's expression remains inscrutable, but there's a slight hesitation in her voice that you've never heard before. "What I'm saying, Y/n, is that my feelings for you aren't solely the result of some alchemical concoction. They were there long before."
Finally, you meet her gaze, and in that moment, you know you have to be truthful—not just for her, but for yourself.
"I- I think I like you too," You stammer, the words still being difficult to hear yourself. I guess there was always something behind those arguments we've had, you were right all along. Maybe I did want to have those banters with you," you nervously laugh.
"But I'm scared, Wednesday. This is all so new and confusing." You quickly add.
Wednesday reaches out, taking your hand in hers, she gives it a light squeeze, "You're right. And maybe this is the potion making me talk but I think we'll figure it out."
"Yeah we will," you smile lightly.
"So does this mean the potion will wear off?" Wednesday asks still holding your hand.
"Yeah, according to Enid, a heartfelt conversation was the antidote, and if that wasn't what we just had then I don't know what to tell you," you chuckle.
Wednesday's lips curve into a small smile, and you find yourself mirroring it. Your hands remain clasped together, a silent acknowledgment of the fleeting moment you both know is slipping away. The effects of the enhancer will soon fade, and Wednesday will return to her usual stoic self, guarded and reserved, her displays of affection rare and restrained.
But you're okay with that. Because it's in those quiet moments, in her subtle glances and the unspoken understanding between you, that you've come to cherish her the most. It's the Wednesday you've grown to care for, the one who doesn't need grand gestures to show how much she feels.
————
You wake up the next morning, unsure if the heartfelt conversation had the intended effect. After leaving Wednesday's room when Enid arrived, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you two.
Rolling over, you reach for your phone on the nightstand. A notification from an unsaved number catches your eye. As you read the message, a small laugh escapes your lips.
"Looks like the potion wore off."
unsaved number
Please tell me Enid was making up that absurd notion about me desiring to 'ravish you under the moonlight.' Such theatrics are beneath me.
summary - after watching how well you are with kids, Tara gets a funny feeling in her stomach…
warnings - smut, p in v, talk of pregnancy, riding, tara’s a freak
an - the people ask, and i deliver. hope this satisfies the masses!
—————————
“Which color do you want?” You questioned, peering down at the toddler in your lap, “Do you want the red?”
The small girl, named Emma, nodded shyly and made grabby hands for the crayon you picked up, giggling when you handed it to her. It was a required part of your Education class to spend time with kids and observe their behaviors so you could become more prepared for teaching in the future, so your professor invited some kids in the foster care program to come hang out with you and your classmates.
The on-campus coffee shop offered to host the event, reserving half of the tables for it. Currently, you were seated at a small circular table with a couple kids and another one of your classmates, doodling on a drawing pad and passing a few drawings around for the kids to color in. They were super engaging toddlers, with one boy even cracking a few dad jokes that made you chuckle from time to time, but Emma was the one who connected with you the quickest. She had clung to you as soon as she got there, and had been adding color to almost every single one of your drawings for the past hour.
“I’m kind thirsty Emma, wanna come with me to get a drink?” You asked, setting your pen down.
“Ya!” The girl replied, tossing her crayon onto the table.
You smiled, picking her up and setting her on your hip before heading towards the front counter. The cashier greeted you and happily waited to take your order, giving a little wave to the toddler on your side, but your attention had been captured by a certain brunette.
It was Tara, your girlfriend of almost two years, was eyeing you with a gentle smile from the back corner booth. She was wrapped up in one of your hoodies, the article seeming to swallow her tiny frame whole as your clothes were always oversized on her. Her brown eyes were tracking you precisely, and they immediately lit up when you met her gaze. She gave you a little wave, holding up a second drink from her own that you recognized as your favorite.
“Actually, I won’t need anything.” You said to the worker before heading over to Tara’s booth.
Emma babbled in your ear, playing with a little toy unicorn you had brought for her. You set her down on the booth seat, before sliding in next to her and facing Tara with a big smile.
“So are you stalking me now?” You asking, leaning into your palm.
“I have your location at all times, so yes.” She teased back, pushing the drink towards you, “And I knew you’d be thirsty.”
You smiled wider, taking the beverage and sipping it with a sigh, “It’s perfect Tar, thank you.”
“Perfect!” Emma squealed from your side, standing up and placing the unicorn on top of your head.
You chuckled, wrapping your arm around the toddler to make sure that she didn’t fall, “You having fun Em?”
Tara watched from across the table, her bottom lip slipping between her teeth from the sight before her. She always knew you had a soft spot for children, being that you were majoring in education and you were always taking up babysitting jobs, but she had never experienced your skill set firsthand. You pulled Emma into your lap and began to tickle her, the small girl laughing sweetly, and that’s when Tara knew she had to get you home immediately.
A certain feeling was bubbling in her stomach, and watching you be a mother figure made her want nothing more than for you to get her pregnant.
——Time Skip——
“Mmph.” You groaned softly, muffled by Tara’s lips against your own.
After your coffee shop play date with the kids, Tara had insisted on you coming back to her single dorm to spend time together, though you knew she had other plans when a familiar glint flickered across her brown iris’.
Hence why you were now here, your hands firmly placed on the fat of her ass while she rode you fiercely. Her hips ground into yours with vigor as she threw her head back, a guttural moan falling from her lips when she finally sat back fully onto your length.
“Fuck babe, stretching me out so good.” She moaned, placing her hands behind her and rolling her hips up.
You whined, your eyes rolling from the stimulation. Tara had been at this for awhile now, unrelenting and determined to make you cum over and over again until you couldn’t remember your own name.
Her words, not yours.
“Think you can be a good girl and give me another?” She asked breathlessly, biting her lip while rocking her hips a little faster, “I know the answer…but I want to hear it.”
You moaned in response, gasping when she clenched down hard and pushed herself down. Her torso bent over you, hands reaching to grab your face and force you to look at her.
“Use your words.” She stated, subtly grinding her hips against yours.
You gulped, fighting back another moan, “Y-yeah, I can.”
Tara smiled, pressing a sweet kiss to your nose before returning to sitting upright. She carefully raised herself up before slamming back down, the wet noises of her soaked cunt enveloping your cock filling the room. Your orgasm approached fast, the knot in your lower stomach tightening quite quickly with how Tara was manhandling you.
“That’s it.” She mumbled when you cried out her name, her hands running across your breasts with each roll of her hips, “Good girl, just let it out.”
You whimpered pathetically, eyes rolling back and toes curling when you finally came. Your seed pumped deep inside of her, and she soon followed you through when she felt the warm liquid coat her walls.
“Fuck.” You muttered, letting your arm fall over Tara’s waist when she snuggled into your chest.
“Always fill me up perfectly.” She whispered against your collarbone, leaving little kisses there, “So perfect.”
She locked her legs around your waist, trapping you inside of her, and rolled you both over until she was on her back and you were hovering over her. She looped her arms around your neck, giggling when you sucked in a breath at the movement.
“I just did sooooo much heavy lifting.” She whined playfully, pushing you closer to her by her heels, “And after seeing how good you handle kids, well…”
She bit her lip, playing with the hairs on the back of your neck, “How about you do some of the work now, hm?”
You stared at her a moment, weighing your options before pushing your hips forward gently. Carefully, you worked yourself back into her, eliciting small huffs and whines from the both of you. She was tight, very very tight, yet her walls caved and opened for your thickness, and before you knew it you were fully sheathed in her warmth again.
“Shit…Tara!” You moaned, your head falling to her shoulder from the feeling of her.
“Poor baby, all flustered.” She cooed, running her nails across your muscular back, “I know it feels good, but I’m expecting you to do what I told you to.”
You nodded weakly, drawing your hips back before thrusting them forward again, soon settling into a smooth rhythm. Your pants were muffled against her skin, your hands holding her ass tightly as you pumped into her. She would sigh in your ear from time to time, mumbling little praises and sweet things, but other than that she was silent. It was a test, to see if you could please her in the way she needed you to.
“I’m…close.” Tara murmured after a while, purring when you moaned back to her, “Bring me to it baby…that’s it…mMM!”
She came with a tight lipped squeal, her eyes fluttering shut as her orgasm washed through her. You gritted your teeth, giving a couple few thrusts before following her through, promptly collapsing on top of her when you finished.
Her hands wound into your hair, massaging your scalp gently whilst turning you both to the side. You were still inside her, dimly aware of that fact, but you knew Tara had a thing for falling asleep while being stuffed with your cock, so you didn’t mind in the slightest.
“You did such a good job beautiful.” She praised to you, pressing little kisses to your forehead, “Always so obedient.”
You grumbled an incoherent sentence, nipping her skin lightly before burying yourself into her neck. She giggled at you, hugging you close and pulling your hips even closer with her legs.
“I’ll be here when you wake up.” She said, noting your tired body, “Can’t promise that I won’t be sucking you off though.”
You chuckled, patting her butt as a way to say that you didn’t care, and soon fell asleep tucked against her.
emma gets migraines every once in awhile. her go-to is popping two ibuprofen, chugging a glass of water, and powering through her day bc she’s the sheriff and the savior and that doesn’t allow for wiggle room. but on her really bad days, the days she can’t get out of bed and can barely smile through telling henry to have a good day as he skips out the door for school, regina pushes back her morning meetings and stays behind with her. she sits in bed with emma and lightly massages her temples, thumb running across the bridge of her nose and crease of her eyebrows, whispering sweet words to her as emma’s eyes finally shut again. regina tells her darling girl that it’s okay to rest, promises to be right there until emma wakes up again. emma drifts off again to regina’s soft kiss on her temple, nose nudging near emma’s eyebrow.
falling in love is so fucking stupid. everything on earth is glowing honey-bright. i am easily charmed by small things. i am obsessed even with the shadow formed by her eyelashes. i can't get over the magic of this: that humans can feel something like this.
and yeah in the history of humanity we still can't seem to talk about it enough. because i can tell you about it - about her - and it won't surround the experience. it can never be big enough.
i am feeling something people have maybe always-felt. who knows when the first person fell in love. i am also feeling something that feels new and silly and extreme. like maybe we're the first people to really understand it, truly.
i know the science of it; why her smell is so good to me (something about our compatible genes). oxytocin and whatever hormones. and still it is incredible - i didn't think my body did this kind of thing. i thought it was an invention of romance-book marketing.
things make sense that didn't make sense before. songs about how love is an addiction or possession or insanity. orpheus had to turn around, of course he did, i would turn for her too, just to see. my mom and i watch a rerun of a murder mystery; for the first time i understand the line he did it for love - instead of being trite, it feels like a genuine tragedy.
and of course i am feeling the same way millions of people have maybe felt and know i cannot write enough about it, that it won't quite surrender to poetry. why do i think i'm gonna be the one who can finally communicate this thing that resists definition so ardently. this girl in my kitchen, humming. who walked so casually into my life. this girl pulls the rain down from even a cloudless sky.
what i can say is that i feel something impossible, and stupid. what i can say is that nothing about this is unusual, and yet i am so caught in it that i keep waiting for some terrible evil - something so good surely must come with some kind of retribution.
we get high and watch zombies 4 (it's terrible). the main characters sing a song about love; how theirs feels wild and impossible. the kind of thing i used to think was insipid, bad writing. baby that's us, she says into my ear.
that's us, she says, but with us the true love thing is actually real.
That was it. That last dismissive glance going your way, was the drop.
Slapping your fan shut, you clutched into your hand. Sucking in a breath as you turned half around to the person standing not far behind your shoulder. Penelope Featherington. Clutching once more to the walls. Almost becoming one with the ornaments as you felt like becoming one too.
“They can have it!” – you snapped at her. Making Penelope blink curiously with the drink in her hand. Removing herself a bit from the wall to come nearer. – “Have what?” – responded intrigued. – “All of it!” – declaring it with a desperate throw of your hands upwards.
“The balls, the frivolities, the courting, urgh.” – waving your skirt in your hand to clear your statement. – “Year after year it is a torment for girls like us. Tell me Penelope how many years have we been parading here without any good outcome?”
Penelope lowered her gaze with a soft swallow. – “Three.” – she whispered out. – “How many?” – you repeated wanting to hear it louder from her. – “Three!” – so she did with her chin up high. It made you nod with a wink at her for letting her voice be heard. – “Always the same. Well I say no more!” – waving a hand across. Penelope gasped soft, setting her glass away.
“What are you referring to Y/n?” – moving up to you, moving her hand to your arm. You sighed deep and weary. – “I can’t take any more humiliation Penelope.” – taking her hand pleadingly. – “I get it. I’m a girl no one wants. They’ve made that perfectly clear over the years.” – glancing over your shoulder to the ton.
Sighing once more, you shoulders slouched downwards. – “I am not participating in another season after this one.” – letting go of her hands, you crossed your arms.
Penelope gasped once more. – “What will you do then?” – asking with concern. The pleading glance you gave her, said enough. Making her move a hand to her lips. Knowing of what you were hinting at. A spinster.
“I’m not getting any younger on it.” – you spoke with reason. – “I… I just want peace and quiet. I don’t have the strength to continue anymore. Meet my parents with constant disappointment. I can’t take it anymore.” – lowering your gaze, you turned away from the ball. Turning more towards the wall, wishing you could disappear with them.
Penelope came laying her hand gently on your shoulder. – “I’ll live away from the ton. Away from Mayfair…but I’m not sure if I can do it alone.” – placing your hand on hers, you turned your head in her direction. Eyes lowering briefly lower than her eyes. – “Will you come with me?”
Penelope’s eyes widened, fluttering startled. – “Come… come with you? To live away as spinsters?” – she repeated to be clear of your message. You nodded, taking both her hands in yours. – “We’ll do whatever we like. Have no expectations to society… enjoy our days with chatting and reading. I’ll make sure to set up a library just for you.” – Squeezing her hands a bit, she curled up a smile.
“What do you say Penelope. Shall we turn away from society to live our own?” – looking hopeful at her. Unsure what she was thinking. For all you could hope for was that she agreed. There was no other person you’d want to live together with. Not needing a man in your life, but her.
Penelope’s gaze went down to your entangled hands. Slowly going higher to meet with your gaze. A smile curling up in the corner of her lips. Feeling as if your proposition was a fairytale. A sense of wanting to throw everything overboard upon her. – “Let us.” – she spoke with a smile.
You breathed out a laugh, throwing your hands around her. – “Oh thank you Penelope. I don’t know what I would do without you. We’ll live together and stay up late all night chatting.” – jumping up and down to out your excitement. Penelope laughed needing to settle your excitement down in public. – “Someone needs to keep you under supervision, right?” – quirking her eyebrow up, she gave you the sneakiest glance she could produce.
Gawking in shock back at her for her boldness. – “and you need someone that can give you what you desire.” – you responded entangling your arm with hers. Smiling at each other, the two of you walked out of the ball. Already making preparations for when the time came.
The sunlight fell just right on the flowers. Leaving them with an illuminating glow. Penelope sat with a book on her lap. The sunlight falling on her pages, made her blink suddenly. Attention drawn away from the words on her pages. Slowly her head lifted up.
To where the sun came from. Up ahead from the window, the light shun inwards. By that window you stood. Sitting by the windowsill with you needlework. Keeping it in the light for your stitches. Penelope’s gaze fell upon you. Seeing how the sunlight was leaving an eternal glow on you.
Leaving you even more beautiful than you already were. The way the light was shining on you made her bring her finger to her lips. Book out of mind as her eyes took in every detail of yours. If anyone had told her, she was looking upon an angel, she would believe it.
For a long time now, she was living with you here as spinsters. Away from society and away from the ton. Free to fil your days how you liked. With culture and creativity. A life of peace and quiet. No more courtships and the awkward conversations it brought upon themselves. For a long time now she felt happy.
Rarely had a day where she felt blue. For it appeared she only felt pink. Blessing each fleeting moment for her decision. Two friends having become closer to each other than ever. Mostly you shared a room together. Chatting and laughing the night away with gossips from the ton you left. How you made her smile each day. Making her love you even more. Love.
Penelope got up, her book dropping to the floor. Captivated, she approached you. You looked away from your needlework the moment you noticed her. – “Is something wrong Pen?” – you asked lowering your work.
Penelope cupped your cheeks together. Shaking her head in response. – “Nothing is amiss.” – she spoke. Eyes closing as she leaned in. Lips touching lips tenderly. Letting them rest there for a moment before pulling away. Only inches away, heart fluttering.
Eyes meeting with each other before both of you leaned in for the kiss. Lips touching lips with tenderness and sweetness. Sucking in a breath to lead it to more passionate. A saying that needed to be outed. Two friends becoming lovers. For all they needed was each other.
summary: you had liked penelope for as long as you could remember and watched her change for someone else. at least so you thought
pairing: sapphic! penelope featherington x lesbian! reader
words: 1k
a/n: i <3 penelope sm and needed a wlw imagine so bad. spent 1 hour on this so if it’s bad i apologise but it’s 4am and i couldn’t sleep without finishing this story
“Pen!” You called out from the Featherington’s hallway. “Make haste, we are already late. Madame Delacroix promised us those fabrics from Paris and I am in desperate need of new garments.”
Farleigh raised her eyebrows at you but remained silent as she glanced up the stairs to see if Penelope had heard the lady shout from downstairs; improper manners but being late to an appointment was far more rude.
Penelope eventually made it downstairs wearing her bright yellow dress. Penelope hated the citrus colours her mamma always had her wear. You thought it rather suited her. It was a happy colour indeed and she looked the kindest in them. The details were too much—you agreed with Pen on that but she looked beautiful in any colour. How could she not? She had hair, orange like the sunsets over London; rosy cheeks that matched her fiery hair; when she was embarrassed or vexed, feeling too hot or cold, the apples of her cheeks would shine bright alike. She was so very bewitching but you could never tell her. It was unheard of—a woman in love with another? No one ever even uttered a word of queer affections. So you stayed silent and admired her from afar.
“Ready?”
“Indeed.” She beamed, taking your arms and headed towards the carriage that waited outside.
At the Modiste you eyed a pink fabric that Madame Delacroix had laid out for you. Pink like little piglets and flowers, decorated with the most marvellous design of glitter. Penelope had strayed away from the citrus colour and asked Madame Delacroix for the latest fabric from Paris that weren’t orange or yellow.
“Do you think it wise to alter your mamma’s signature colours?” You asked.
“I simply do not understand her fixation on citrus colours. ‘Happy’ colours indeed but it makes me look washed out. Sick even. It is not for me.”
“I think you look pretty.”
“You might be the only one in Mayfair who thinks so.”
“I doubt so,” you walked towards the mirror to stand opposite Penelope, “but if you must know, those colours Madam Delacroix chose rather suit you quite well..”
“You think so?” You swear you saw a tinkle in her eyes.
“Yes.”
Madame Delacroix promised Penelope six new gowns, one to be done in two days time just in time for Lady Danbury’s first ball of the season. It was both Pen’s and yours third season out with no prospects to show. Either men were too interested in you or not. Believed you to be some kind of dog they could just tell about. And with your conveyed feelings you weren’t even quite sure you wanted a love match with a man. A woman sounded much more pleasing but out of reach. Your family; your papa, mamma and younger sister knew of your unwise choices and savoured the word of acceptance over and over again but that it was a fantasy that could never be real. That you had to marry a man and that it would be easier to forget. Society liked women in brothels that performed together. Was queer love only good for the pleasure of others?
It was even harder knowing that Penelope felt for Colin Bridgerton. He barely eyed her and yet her affections were in a box with a key only he could open. Penelope had grown more silent on the matter and not staring too much out of her window. It was odd for Pen not to stare into Bridgerton house but you couldn’t blame her. A flame only lasted so long.
At the ball you had waited by the food table in hopes of Penelope finding you. The two of you enjoyed being stuck to the wall and observing the ton. The most peculiar things did happen when one thought no one was around to see. You saw the Featherington’s arrive when you noticed that Penelope hadn’t taken her cape off and when the staff helped her remove it, Pen stood on top of the stairs like a fallen angel. The green complimented her well. Well was an understatement. It was unmatched. You weren’t even able to get to Pen as the suitors went up one by one.
When the suitors did eventually leave, Cressida had walked up in the same moment and you saw her purposely edging the heel of her foot into her fabric so that when Pen tried to come towards you, her gown had ripped.
“How mortifying! I am so clumsy. My deepest apologies.” She said, cruelty marking her every word.
Penelope stared at you and without warning rushed outside. You followed her after telling Cressida off, hoping she would one day learn her lesson.
Outside Pen started weeping, a sight you wished you wouldn’t have to witness.
“Pen, I am so sorry.”
“I am the laughing stock of the ton even when I change my entire wardrobe!”
“You didn’t have to change to begin with.”
“All night I waited to be noticed. To be admired but who could I blame?” She let out a concealed sigh with a laugh.
“Pen,” you grabbed her hands, “I saw Colin look at you. I am very sure he was engaged by your charm.”
“Colin?” Pen pulled her hands back. “Who said I’m talking about Colin?”
“Are we not?” You asked carefully.
“No, I am talking about you!” She shouted, her chest rising and falling.
“What?” You mumbled.
“All day,” she breathed out, “I waited to be beholden by you. To see you gaze at me in a way that is considered forbidden but you didn’t.”
“I—“
“Nevermind, I should have never said what I said. I’m-a-fool-and-should’ve-stayed-quiet-and—“
“Shut up.” You muttered before kissing Penelope.
A momentarily calmness came over Penelope as she melted into the kiss. You had grabbed her by the face and pulled her in. Her hands held your wrists and she kissed you back so softly, unsure if the kiss was reality or fantasy.
“You have kissed me,” Pen pulled back.
“Shouldn’t I have?”
“I’m not sure, I—“
“Kiss me again.”
And she did. With the same tenderness as before as you nervously waited for the carriage to arrive and to take you two home.
You Know What They Say (About Getting Your Hopes Up)
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Pairings: Emma/Regina
Rating: E
Warnings: None
Trigger Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I do not own OUaT or it’s characters. They belong to others. I make no profit from this.
Summary: Written for Tumblr’s Swan Queen AU Week, Day 1: Blind Date. Takes place in a real-world setting, no fairy tales, no magic, etc. So I guess this is classified as pre-Swan Queen.
Author’s Notes: I’m totally late submitting this. I’m sorry.
It had been years since she had last considered dating in any serious context, but Henry had been very young then and nearly every eligible bachelor had run away at the mention of a toddler. Those that remained had simply proven themselves unsavory in one way or another. So it was with a sigh of resignation that she fixed her lipstick in the foyer mirror, and reminded herself to keep her hopes low.
This date was rather different from any of her previous attempts, in that Henry –Henry, who was brilliant beyond his ten years- had set this one up with glowing enthusiasm. She hadn’t had the heart to tell him ‘no’ at the time, but looking at her reflection, now, she was beginning to wish she had. Gone was the youthful look she’d once possessed, and in it’s place was a working woman who had perfected her mask of makeup and clothing and hair and confidence. She took in the imperfections glaring back at her, the small beginnings of fine lines, the scar at her lip, the tired look in her eyes, and gave a quiet sigh as she tucked the lipstick tube into her purse and fluffed her hair once more.
With the date taking place somewhere casual, she’d simply opted for a pair of black slacks, her favorite blue silk shirt, and a black vest over that. It was nice, but not too nice.
“You’re pretty, mom, don’t worry.”
Summary: Regina treats her son Henry to a day at the county fair but soon finds out that he set her up on a blind date through a game of chance. Just four balls, two blindfolds, and only one winner….though her mystery ‘date’ says otherwise.
A/N: I wrote this awhile back, but figured it was appropriate to post for Swan Queen Week - Thursday: Trapped. :)
Henry had had enough. The screaming from downstairs bounced up the stairs toward his room for the third time today. Frustrated, he grabbed two pillows and pressed them to each side of his head. This was getting out of hand. It was time to take action.
Ever since Regina had invited Emma to move in, things had changed. Before, the two were sweet and kind, spent late nights laughing, cuddling, watching movies with their son on the couch; but now, things were different, and the two women did nothing but argue. About everything.
